


You're so pure, you're so neat

by retts



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Needy!Zayn, Oblivious boys are oblivious, Pining, Zayn being ridiculous, Ziam means never having to say sorry no happy ending here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 14:44:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retts/pseuds/retts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn pines because he wants to, even when he could be happy instead. Fortunately he's got friends to help him make good life choices otherwise he'd be miserable forever, the poor sod. (Zayn's kind of incompetent at being happy, you know, but that's just Lou's opinion.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>| Zayn stares at him from where he's sprawled on the bed, wearing Liam’s red jumper that is already big on <em>Liam</em> so it just positively swallows Zayn up. It smells like him, though, of home, and rain, and a hint of Burberry. |</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're so pure, you're so neat

**Author's Note:**

> Ziam does wonders for my productivity because I haven't written or planned on writing this much in actual years. They've taken over my brain and I still don't want to follow 1D. Sigh. Also I miss writing in this sorta stream of consciousness style.

 

 

1\. Sometimes, yeah, sometimes Zayn does a pretty fucking good job of pretending he isn't in love with Liam that he can breathe for a few minutes. It's during these moments when he doesn't crave cigarettes as if it's air and he can laugh boisterously at whatever lame joke Liam's just said without the need to kiss him making his lips ache because fuck, Liam's face always lights up whenever he makes Zayn laugh like it's his life mission or something. Zayn can take the piss and flirt with Liam during interviews and shows, clinging to the other boy like a limpet, pressing kisses to Liam's cheek because he can. It doesn't hurt until it does, when Zayn remembers that he's pathetically arse over tits for this boy. All the hope and desire he has crowd at the base of his throat, choking him, pushing his heart against his ribcage mercilessly because the boy he's stupid for? Yeah, never going to happen. 

2\. And if Zayn could do something about it then he would have done ages ago when he first starts noticing how adorable Liam is every second of every day, how Liam cares and worries so much for Zayn and the others he's probably giving himself an ulcer, how Liam frowns and drags Louis back to the queue by the collar of his shirt when Louis sneaks off to the front, how Liam's voice turns him into a quivering mess inside, how Liam bites his fingernails, how soft Liam's lips look, how absolutely lovely he is, probably the best person Zayn knows.  

Zayn should have been more observant, really, because now he's got a soft murmur of _LiamLiamLiamLiam_ in the back of his head at all times he can't get rid of and it's driving him mad with longing and grinding his heart into dust.   

And there's a split second, as they're recording their album in the studio, when Zayn thinks he can still do something about the situation. Then Liam gives him one of those sweet smiles that devastate Zayn and nope, yeah, he's utterly fucked. Zayn does the only thing he can, leaning against Liam and basking in the warmth of his existence.   

3\. And Zayn should have seen it coming, yeah? Shouldn’t have been so blindsided by the love and want and need because the first time they properly meet at McDonalds –

Liam clears his throat and goes, hesitantly but politely with big brown eyes and biting lips, 'Hey, may I sit with you?' as if half-expecting Zayn to put his feet up on the vacant chair and tell him to bugger off with the arch of an eyebrow.   

Zayn becomes weirdly flustered and nearly knocks his Coke over (right then he should have got an inkling, at _least_ ). 'Yeah, no, you can, um, may, please,' Zayn stutters and tugs at his tray to clear a space for Liam's and Liam quirks his lips in a grin that sort of stuns Zayn and prompts a voice in the back of his head to mutter, " _Oh you're going to be trouble_."  

'I'm Liam by the way. Liam Payne.'

Zayn coughs and finds his voice. 'Zayn Malik.'

'It's great to meet you,' says Liam sincerely. 'You want some of my chips?'  

(Zayn absolutely sucks at being perceptive.)  

4\. Then: Danielle.   

5\. It's bizarre how Zayn is conscious – paranoid really – of his adoration of Liam when there are other people around. Even if One Direction is infamous for being embarrassingly touchy-feely, there’s still a clear line drawn in the sand. He's always checking that he's not paying _too_ much attention to Liam, not touching him constantly (that one's hard), not staring at him like a besotted idiot (that one slips out whenever Liam catches him off-guard, like if he's said something especially witty or, you know, _existing_ ), not hanging on to every word or twist of his body. The fans are way too sharp, the media scrutiny is relentless, and the band is always around so they're bound to notice eventually.  

It isn't as if Zayn's ashamed of being in love with Liam. No; Liam is incredible and Zayn would shout out his feelings from rooftops if he could; accost random strangers in the street, babble to his sisters until they tell him to shut the bloody hell up because they _know_ , Christ.   

That’s just it, though: Zayn literally can’t tell anyone because Liam isn’t his to brag about. Liam’s his best mate, his weakness, the sore spot in the middle of his chest, the deep yearning behind his eyes. And if Liam will ever realise this, it will change everything between them. There will be awkwardness and boundaries and _guilt_ from the other boy and Zayn won't be able to handle that. So he keeps quiet, eyelashes lowered, lips curling in a secret smile that’s made people label him as mysterious and deep and a bit untouchable – when really, he’s just bloody lovesick, he is.

But then, when it's just Zayn and Liam, separated from the rest of the world by a locked door and the sense of _ZaynandLiam_ wrapped around them like a comfortable duvet – when Zayn has to be careful, he becomes careless and open. He can't stop touching Liam, and staring at him, and hanging on to his every word. He laughs and smiles and leans too close, and Liam doesn't notice or mind. It takes everything in him not to dramatically thrust his hand out at Liam and say, 'Here, have my bleeding, twisted, traitorous heart because it wants you, and the only home it needs is the quiet space right next to yours,' or something to that effect.   

It's a kind of torture on its own, especially on nights like these when they've drunk enough to be a little stupid. Zayn's mouth is spread in a manic grin as he manhandles the controller and forcefully shoulders Liam away, and Liam growls and shoves back, and suddenly they are wrestling on the floor, game forgotten (their cars exploding on the screen), and Liam gets a leg over Zayn's hips and Zayn bucks up. They are laughing so hard they're wheezing for air, hands entwined, foreheads pushed together, and Zayn preens at the way Liam looks at him as if he's awesome, like, really, fucking ace, and in the space of a blink and a gasp, they're kissing. It's everything Zayn ever thought it would be and more, so much more. They're licking into each other's mouths in long drawn-out swipes that make Zayn's head spin, or the world spin, or – he doesn't give a shit because Liam's mouth, Liam's breath, Liam's taste is on his tongue: _LiamLiamLiamLiam_.   

With a slick sound, their lips separate and Liam giggles and rolls off of Zayn, mumbling about more beer, kidney be damned.     

Zayn just touches his mouth with two fingers.

6\. He's an awful human being and he doesn't deserve to be happy because when Liam and Danielle break up it's like the sun's come out after years of bleakness. It's not alright; Zayn's sodding terrible like this, his arms around Liam as he cries softly into the crook of Zayn's neck and Zayn hurts for him, hurts _because_ of him, but there's a part of him that rejoices too.   

'I'm sorry,' murmurs Zayn softly, only it's not for reasons others might think it's for. _I'm sorry for being my horrible self_ , is what Zayn means; _for loving the fact that you're in my arms even though you're feeling wretched, Li. Please see me now, look at me. I love you, I love you, I love you._  

7\. 'So who's dating who these days?' the interviewer asks and there's a cheeky glint in her eyes that elicits a chorus of laughter and elbow-digging.   

Zayn waggles his eyebrows and raises a hand. 'I'm dating Liam, if anyone wants to know.'  

'It's true, yeah, Zayn's amazing,' Liam giggles and sinks into his side (and the sound is genuine and the shadows have left his eyes and the lads can relax because Liam's alright). Right now Liam's eyes are as bright as anything and he winks at Zayn and toys with Zayn's fingers.  

The interviewer coos and Harry grins, says, 'We're all fabulously gay, to be honest,' and smashes his lips to Niall's cheek. This causes all of them to start pecking each other and Liam turns to Zayn with a mischievous 'Hey boyfriend' and puts his lips to the corner of Zayn's; it’s so fleeting yet the sensation sinks permanently into Zayn's skin.   

More than the catcalls of the audience, the exaggerated smacking of lips, their hysterical laughter, Zayn reckons the loudest sound in the entire room is his heart breaking. He's sure of it.   

8\. Zayn says helplessly, 'I love you,' whilst the entire world screams at them (in high-pitched tween voices) and Liam beams like the sun and says, 'I love you too, Zayn,' and engulfs him in his arms.   

They don't mean the same thing, though.   

9\. 'Heeeeey,' drawls Harry as he sits next to Zayn who is smoking his way to lung cancer. Zayn only grunts and sucks in a cloud of chemicals he hopes strangles all emotions until he's coasting on numbness since not feeling anything sounds good right about now. He should've grabbed the bottle of tequila in his hotel room.  

'You're in one of those moods, huh? Lovely.'  

'What do you want?'   

He can feel Harry staring at him. From the corner of his eye, he sees Harry's fingers clench round his knees.

'Liam,' says Harry.  

'Fuck off,' snaps Zayn, voice like gravel. He crushes the fag under his Converse and lights up another one.  

Harry crosses his arms. 'Yeah, that's helpful. Listen, Zayn, ' and god, there he goes, sounding earnest and caring and a tiny bit scathing, 'we all know, yeah, and you two are my best mates, so I don't want anything to like, ruin us or whatever. Not the band but our friendship, alright? So if you don't, for Li, then can you – '  

'Fuck you,' Zayn repeats with ten times more vehemence, heart beating painfully as he turns to look Harry in the eye. 'It's not even that I don’t but I _can’t_. I, _shit_ , what do you want to hear, Harry? That I can't stop thinking about Liam? That I can't stop wanting to be with him all the time even if it hurts like fuck, because if I'm not with him it hurts in a different way altogether? That I can't ever tell him what I really want to say, can't touch him, can't hold on to him, can't do anything if he ever goes back to dating even if it kills me?' Zayn's voice splinters at the edges and he gulps in a huge breath. He stares at Harry's gobsmacked expression through his tears. He whispers, 'That I can't stop loving him even if I should? Because I do, Harry, I love him. I'm in love with him. Desperately.'

There's a fragile silence as the gasping, hungry, jealous monster in his chest is finally given shape and name for another person to hear (just not the person it's meant for) and Zayn lowers his head, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. 'Shit,' he exhales weakly, suddenly so tired, empty, aching.

'Zayn,' Harry says shakily and an arm curls around his neck and drags him into Harry's embrace. 'I didn't know – ' The other boy breaks off, sounding unsure, then mutters under his breath, 'Here I thought I should warn you about breaking Liam's heart but. But it's the other way around, isn't it?'

10\. And Zayn's fine, honestly; he can keep this secret locked up behind his ribs for as long as it takes. More than anything, he does not want to lose Liam, so he is _fine_.

So fine that Liam knocks politely (because he's Liam and he's ridiculous) before using the extra keycard to Zayn’s room to unlock the door. He's got a bag of Doritos and a thermos in one hand and his laptop in the other.   

Zayn stares at him from where he's sprawled on the bed, wearing Liam’s red jumper that is already big on _Liam_ so it just positively swallows Zayn up. It smells like him, though, of home, and rain, and a hint of Burberry.  

'How are you feeling?' asks Liam with a small worried smile. If he recognises the jumper, he doesn’t comment on it. Zayn’s been known to filch one or two (or half a dozen) of Liam’s clothes and wear it like it’s his.  

'Like crap,' mumbles Zayn. He actually made himself ill smoking (and crying) too much and now his voice is wrecked and his skin is on fire.   

'Poor baby,' says Liam as he climbs carefully on to the bed. 'Come on, scoot over. Thanks. Here, have some tea.' He settles next to Zayn after passing the thermos. Zayn takes a sip and sighs at the wonderfully hot drink. Liam boots up his laptop and places it on his knees. With a smile at Zayn, Liam beckons him closer and Zayn gratefully tucks himself into the other boy's space, letting Liam's presence soothe him, soften the pains; Zayn's own chicken soup for the soul and body.   

The screen lights up and they watch the Toy Story films in order until Zayn falls asleep, lulled by the rise and fall of Liam's chest under his cheek and the steady thumping of his heart. Dreams of gentle fingers scratching his scalp and dark eyes watching him.  

11\. And maybe Zayn becomes too wrapped up in his unrequited love as the weeks and months go by, thinking it's the best he'll ever do, and begins wearing it like a fucking badge of honour. He gets used to the pining; the idea that Liam is untouchable on his pedestal, too perfect to sully with Zayn’s neediness that he won't let himself take the risk of actually offering Liam his heart or believing there might actually be a sliver of a chance. He's too scared of what might happen, lets his insecurities convince him that he'll never have the boy he loves, and that he's just going to fuck it all up anyway. He tells himself to be content with the lingering touches and joking about it for the fans and staying by Liam's side.

So when Liam kisses him one quiet evening, hand touching the side of Zayn's face, it terrifies the fuck out of him. They're not drunk, no one is making Liam do this, and it’s so sudden and unexpected (too much – )   

As Liam pulls back, cheeks pink, eyes wide and hopeful, the fear and panic yank out every logical thought in Zayn's head and he runs. He leaves Liam with his hand in the air and his lips still parted.  

12\. ‘You miserable sod.’  

It’s Harry again and Zayn makes a sound low in his throat because why can’t anyone leave him alone for just a second? It’s obvious why Harry is here looking for him and Zayn clenches his eyes behind the cover of his palms. He can still see Liam’s face, feel the whisper of a kiss on his mouth, and then –  

‘I fucked up,’ Zayn mutters with a gasp. He curls his fingers so he can peer at Harry’s livid expression. ‘I fucked up, Haz.’  

Harry shakes his head emphatically, curls flying everywhere. His eyebrows are sharply slanted over disappointed eyes. ‘You did,’ he agrees mercilessly, ‘and now Liam won’t come out of his room. He’s _crying_ , Zayn. I told you not to break his heart. I – what the _fuck_ were you thinking?’  

A ridiculously sharp pang goes straight through Zayn’s chest. ‘He is?’ The thought of Liam crying is painful enough, but to be the cause of it? Zayn curses and drags his hands through his hair, calls himself all kinds of stupid because ‘I freaked out, I don’t even remember thinking before I was out of there, and Harry, _god_ ,’ he stares beseechingly at the other boy, ‘I wasn’t expecting it, okay? I never even imagined he would and I was so – I’ve been sat here trying to understand why he kissed me, because Liam just _can’t_ – ’  

‘And why can’t he?’ counters Harry, tone soft now, and he crouches in front of Zayn. ‘Why not, Zayn?’  

For a thousand reasons, a million of them, but they get stuck in his throat as he’s caught up in Harry’s intense gaze. His heart begins to race because why not? He wants Liam more than anything since the very first time they met and Liam practically gave himself to Zayn on a silver platter and he _fled_ like the hopeless loser that he is.  

The dismay on Zayn’s face must make Harry take pity on him since he squeezes Zayn’s nose and tells him as kindly as possible, ‘He’s mad for you, Zayn, and he was brave enough to make the first move. So get your arse off the floor and go apologise to Liam for being a massive wanker.’ An amused smile cracks Harry’s face. ‘I swear Lou is right: you might be cool most of the time but you turn stupid for Li. It’s rather impressive.’

13\. Zayn is literally shaking in his shoes. He’s never been brave. He doesn’t understand why girls all over the world fancy him when he’s awkward and weird and quiet. And yeah, he’s learnt to be more open and charming in front of crowds of strangers, but when you strip away the Bad Boy from One Direction, all that’s left is Zayn Malik, nineteen, irrevocably in love, insecure dork. Who would want that?  

Liam, apparently and against all odds, and the notion makes his knees knock together. His chest swells and ebbs with the most painful hope he’s ever felt. Liam took a chance when he’s just as cautious as Zayn when Zayn ought to have been the one to do it; grew a pair and grabbed at the opportunity to be obnoxiously happy.  

So he raises a fist, takes a deep breath, and raps on the door. Then does it again.  

By the time someone finally opens the door, and it’s Niall with a tight expression on his face that speaks volumes about how bad the situation is, Zayn is already scrambling to get Liam’s spare keycard out of his wallet.

'Oh,’ says Niall unhelpfully when he sees Zayn.

Zayn nods. ‘Hey. Can - Can I come in?’  

It makes something in Zayn die a little when Niall hesitates. He gets that they’re all still protective of Liam after his heartbreak with Danielle, because Liam is the gravity that keeps everything from falling apart, but he must see the other boy, explain, beg, confess.

Finally, Niall tilts his head, mutters, ‘Yeah,’ and pulls the door wider.

Zayn steps inside and feels his resolve crumble a bit when he sees Liam sat on the bed, facing away, Louis wrapped around him and giving Zayn a fierce glare.

'Why are you here?’ demands Louis, then directs his scowl at Niall. ‘Why’d you let him in?’

Niall touches Louis’ arm and tugs. ‘Come on, Lou, they have to sort this out by themselves.'

Louis looks like he wants to argue but then bites his bottom lip and leans in to whisper something to Liam. The older boy kisses Liam’s cheek and unwinds his arms. He gives Zayn a measuring look before he lets Niall drag him out the door. It closes decisively and they’re alone.  

'Li,’ he calls hesitantly.  

Liam curls into himself at the sound of Zayn’s voice and that, yeah, that _hurts_ because Liam has never cringed away from Zayn. He’s always been all huge smiles and crinkly eyes and constant affection. Big hands clutching at Zayn, ruffling his hair, making him tea, and even bigger heart trying its best to make everyone happy.

Zayn crosses his arms and sighs, then lowers them again, twisting the hem of his pullover in his hands. It's gutless talking to Liam's back and he licks his dry lips and shuffles round the bed to stand in front of the other boy. Liam still has his head lowered, lashes shielding his eyes, and his bottom lip is caught under his teeth. It's kind of a heartbreaking sight, and Zayn blinks rapidly. If it had been Liam who bolted, Zayn would have already thrown himself out the window in despair.  

'Please look at me, Liam,' Zayn says timidly.

After a moment, Liam breathes in deeply and raises his head, fingers touching the short curls on his forehead. It's an anxious habit he still does even after he got rid of his long hair. Zayn utters a distressed sound when he sees how red Liam's eyes are. He looks so wounded, more than ever seeming like an abandoned puppy, and Zayn clenches his fists until he's stretching the threads of his jumper. 

'I'm sorry,' he blurts out, frantic to wipe away that expression on Liam's face, bring out the gorgeous smile that should be there instead. 'I'm sorry, so _sorry_.' He holds Liam's gaze, his own spilling over with tears, and his voice turns hoarse with all the things he should have said ages ago, like, 'I love you, Liam. You're my best mate, but, I - I love you more than just my mate, you know?' He swipes his tongue over dry lips and cannot look away when understanding flickers on Liam's face. Zayn's hands begin to shake with dread because this is _it_ , he has to say all the stuff he's been smothering for years, and more importantly he has to say it _right_. No more cock ups. He drags his hand over his mouth and takes a step forward. 'I've loved you probably since the first time we met, when - when you offered me your chips, remember? I thought you were amazing, Li, and like, how can you even be real? You're the only person who's never failed to make me laugh and you don't run away when I'm being a moody bastard; you call my fags cancer sticks but leave my smoking alone even if you disapprove. You know how to make my tea and no one knows how to make my tea, and, just, everything you do makes me love you even more until I can't _think_ any longer. And that's fucking scary, yeah? I'm not, I'm just _me_ , and when you kissed me earlier – I've wanted that so badly but I never seriously believed you would ever want me back, Li, and I ran, and I hurt you, but I wasn’t saying "no," alright; that’d be like turning away my own fucking heart. Fuck, I’d got so used to yearning from afar that I – ' The river of words dry out as suddenly as they come, and Zayn wipes at his eyes, unable to look at Liam anymore, at whatever judgment he'll see on the lines of his face. Zayn is out of breath and there's a ferocious pounding in his chest; he feels hollow with everything he's spilt out. 

The only sound for a long while is Zayn's erratic breathing as he tries to stifle his sobs with fingers pressing tight to his lips. Whoever said it's a relief to let issues out is a despicable liar: Zayn feels as if he's just been beaten raw and Liam still has said nothing, and Zayn's already given up because he's ruined things forever and there's nothing left now but to live with this gaping grief.

Then the boy who's everything to him (and he probably shouldn't be, not this much, but Zayn's well past rationality a long time ago) says his name so gently – a simple susurrus of 'Zayn' – and Zayn goes still, fingers gripping his hair, the air rushing out of him.

Cold shaky fingers sweep away the teardrops on Zayn's cheeks and he gasps softly as even that faint sensation burns through him. Liam nudges his chin up and Zayn swallows, hands leaving his hair as his eyes collide with Liam's.

Liam's gaze roams all over Zayn's face, searching, reading whatever else Zayn can't keep hidden any longer.

'Liam,' he all but begs: with his eyes, with his hands curling round Liam's wrists

'Don't cry,' mumbles Liam as he ducks down and kisses him quickly. It's like lightning and Zayn whimpers, tipping forward for more. Liam softens and he cups Zayn's face in his palms. 'Listen, okay? Because I reckon we've been daft enough for today.' 

Zayn nods, hardly daring to imagine past this moment.  

'These past few months, you've been everything to me. I was a right mess but at the same time I wasn't as bad as I could have been. And it was because of _you_ , you and your worried eyes and caring talented fingers and your little smiles and your dorky self. Zayn, you were always there when I needed you and when I didn't know I needed you.' Liam pushes their foreheads together and their noses bump. Zayn thinks: _please, please, please._ 'And then I went from there to wanting to kiss you, and touch you, and, and needing to be _with_ you. It was confusing and new and yeah, frightening. And you know, flirting in front of the cameras didn't really help,' Liam chuckles under his breath and Zayn smiles with him because _yeah_. 

They stand like that for a few minutes, forehead to forehead, lost in thought. 

'You're really good at hiding things, you know?' Liam tells him eventually. 'I was convinced it was just all in my head, but Harry said something that got me wondering and – '

_It makes sense now_ , thinks Zayn, _why Harry said not to break Liam's heart and I wasn't listening at all._

'I'm sorry,' Zayn repeats as he pulls away even if he doesn't want to because even that fraction of a distance is too much. 'I really am. I'm a twat. I probably, no, I'm certain I don't deserve a second chance but I _have_ to ask, Li. We can just be friends, yeah, but if you still, if you want to be with someone as messed up as me – '

'I think you're beautiful,' Liam cuts him off and Zayn's heart stutters even as he shakes his head instinctively, thinks, _no, no, if you only knew the ideas churning in my head. Right now I want to sink inside of you so you can never leave me behind, tear at your ventricles so it can never beat for anyone else because I am greedy, and I will only get greedier if you let me._  But Liam is looking at him like he knows all about those dark, shameful thoughts and still finds Zayn breathtaking anyway. 'I think you're perfect,' Liam crooks a smile at him, 'so please stop putting yourself down or I will have to quote our song to you.'

Zayn smiles faintly and allows himself to touch Liam's pink mouth with a forefinger. Liam still hasn't given him an answer but maybe Zayn doesn't require a verbal “yes” or “no.” He has to stop over thinking things and letting his doubts run away with him. He only needs to remind himself that Liam isn’t stepping back but inching closer until their chests are flushed together; their Converses interweave (blue then red then blue then red) and he can feel Liam's hands angling his head back. Zayn stares at Liam because that is the face he's been dreaming of for so long and he can't wrap his mind round the fact that he can _have_ this. Liam isn't just a fantasy anymore. He's Zayn's best friend, the glue to the cracks in the band, and he's lowering his head until their mouths nearly meet and he's crooning, ‘You don’t know you’re beautiful.’  

And it should be funny, it is definitely dumb, but instead it shakes the spiders inside of Zayn to give some room for the elation he can feel sweeping through him. He's not used to the feeling and he holds on tighter to the other boy, vowing never to let go. 

'You're ridiculous. I can't believe I'm in love with you.' 

Liam kisses him, finally. 

14\. It starts as a simple press of lips, a warm point of connection between them that lasts for a few heartbeats. They draw back, staring at each other wide-eyed and surprised. Zayn licks his lips and Liam's breath hitches. 'Li,' he gasps needily and his fingers grasp the front of Liam’s shirt and Liam nods, mumbles, ‘Yes, okay,’ before crushing their mouths together. All softness is forgotten; now it’s a wrestle of lips and tongues and teeth.

Zayn moans when Liam licks his way to his tonsils and he wraps his arm around the back of Liam’s neck, urging him closer, closer, until there isn’t room for them to breathe and they lose their balance, tumbling back on the bed. Nothing disturbs their kissing though, going on and on, teeth to lip, lip to tongue, tongue to teeth, and on and on and on. Zayn straddles Liam’s thighs, melts on top of him until his elbows dig into the mattress on either side of Liam’s head. Their hips roll together like the tide, seeking the delight that shoots up their spines, and it’s so good, everywhere, that Zayn whimpers and bites down a little too hard, tasting blood. Liam laughs, gasps, and his hands crawl up and down Zayn’s back and sides, then grip the ends of his pullover and shirt and yank both over his head. He fastens his mouth to the curve of Zayn’s neck and does absolutely filthy things there that makes Zayn’s dick beg for attention, straining against the confine of his jeans.

‘Oh god, oh fuck, _Liam_ ,’ he cries out and twines his fingers round the tiny curls on top of Liam’s head, his other hand tugging impatiently on the plaid shirt – ‘off, off, come on, please’ – still covering skin he wants to mark and own and scratch. Liam hums and with a last suck – ‘you bloody vampire’ – he pulls back, locks his knees, and flips them over in a neat move that totally turns Zayn on, staring up at Liam with parted lips and adoring eyes.

‘Christ, you look so good like that,’ says Liam breathlessly before he takes off his shirt, throws it god knows where, and fumbles hastily with his belt and trousers. Zayn reaches up and drags his palms across the planes and angles of Liam’s body; his skin is so soft and smooth, so fucking warm, and Zayn kind of feels like crying with happiness because this can’t be his _life_. He’s already had so much given to him and now seeing Liam like this, eager and willing and unbelievably gorgeous, it’s devastating. If this is a dream –

But no, it’s achingly real as Liam grins wolfishly down at him, unbuttons Zayn’s jeans, and drags it and his boxers off his legs. This really is his life and Zayn has to lean up on his elbows and steal a hot messy kiss that Liam bodily sinks into, crushing Zayn down on the bed, and it should be suffocating but instead it’s brilliant, trapped under Liam like this, every inch touching until they can’t even breathe without the other feeling it. He spreads his legs wide, hooking his ankles round Liam’s, one hand fisting in Liam’s hair and the other clamping over an arsecheek, and thrusts up. Liam groans and buries the sound down Zayn’s throat as they rut wildly together. They’re slick with sweat and it’s graceless and wild, their cocks caged between their bodies. They’re kissing, panting and Zayn is making so much noise and he doesn’t give a fuck because _yes, Liam, so good, brilliant, can’t believe, love you, love you_ and Liam says nothing at all but stares down at Zayn with blown pupils and red cheeks and there is something close to worship in the wet glide of his lips and tongue.

And maybe it’s too fast and Zayn doesn't get to explore Liam’s body or taste his dick and, yeah, he wants Liam to fuck him hard, fast, slow, gentle, upside down, with his fingers, with his tongue, but there will be enough time to do everything he wants later. Liam is his now and the thought makes him shiver, sets fire to his skin, and Zayn arches as Liam digs fingertip-shaped bruises into his hips and grinds into him. ‘Zayn,’ Liam exhales softly as if their bodies aren’t moving in fever pitch and all Zayn can see is the bottomless brown-black of Liam’s eyes. It's like an explosion goes off behind Zayn's eyelids, tremors moving through him; an earthquake, the core of him splitting, until Liam is there holding him closely, both of them plunging off the edge and into something new.

15\. 'You're an idiot,' Liam tells him with a crinkling smile once he's caught his breath. Unfair, that, since Zayn still feels like his lungs are going to burst. It's totally worth it, though, and he resists the urge to squeeze the life out of Liam for a nanosecond before he's doing just that, burying his face into the middle of Liam's chest, hugging him tightly so he can never leave, listening to the rumble of Liam's voice as he teases, 'A blind idiot, Zayn. Honestly. Couldn't you tell I wanted you too?'  

Fuck. Zayn's heart stops when he hears those words and he closes his eyes against the sharply overwhelming joy forcing his heart back into action because _no_ , he cannot die now.   

Saying nothing, Zayn rubs his nose against Liam's skin as he shakes his head. 'Twit,' says Liam, no hint of lingering resentment or anger in his voice, just tender, warm fondness. Zayn fervently prays he will someday deserve Liam but until that time comes, Zayn is selfish enough to keep him. Fingers run through Zayn's hair and his bones turn into liquid at how good it feels. Liam's done this hundreds of times but somehow the touch carries a sweetness not there before because now Zayn knows the exact pitch of Liam's moans, the deft swerve of his hips, the shade of his blown pupils, and the impatient way he growls ‘Zayn’, how he –, when he –, the way –, (and –, and –, and – )  

So this is the first time all over again, and everything else will be just as new and different, to be rediscovered by both of them. Zayn breathes in deeply (skin, sex, and faint cologne), drowning in happiness so unreal it threatens to unravel him because he gets to have this even after he fucked up so spectacularly. Zayn looks up at Liam shyly from under his lashes.  

There's affection curling the corners of Liam's mouth and his chocolate eyes are warm and thoughtful. He pushes Zayn's damp messy bleached fringe back and holds it there, thumb stroking the edge of Zayn's cheekbone. He licks his lips.   

'I could fall in love with you. So easily.' A finger presses gently under Zayn's eye. 'I think I'm halfway there already,' whispers Liam like it's a secret, a vow, a declaration all on its own. Whatever it is, it breaks Zayn's entire world and reshapes it into something marvellous and hopeful and bright, spinning around this kind, gorgeous boy at its centre. His fingers quiver as they touch the side of Liam's face. 

'Please,' he says.

 

(16. –

 

 

17\. –

 

 

18\. –

 

 

to infinity)

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is love <3


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